Friends With Benefits
by bauerfreak
Summary: Snickers. Nick and Sara have an arrangement that allows both of them to get the release they need. But can they only be friends with benefits when new feelings start to surface?
1. Sara 1

_A/N: I'm back with a new romance fic! This will all be written in first person, and I'll be switching back and forth between Nick and Sara's pov. A big thanks to januarynineteen and lostladyknight for helping me think this through, and reading rough drafts! You rock my world! Please review and let me know what you think!_

The familiar even ebbing low in my abdomen has slowly started to subside, though I know that undeniable smell of sex won't leave quite so quickly. I sometimes have mixed feelings after sex with Nick, like I do today as I watch the taut muscles in his strong back move when he bends over to pull up his jeans. As I lay completely naked underneath my white linen sheets, I can't help but feel a little dirty, as I sometimes do. Sure, sex with Nick is amazing. How could it not be? I mean, one look at that man, and you can instantly tell he'll be an amazing lover. And one kiss is all it takes to make me melt in his arms, and he knows it. The sex is great, mind-blowing even, but the problem is that Nick is not my boyfriend. We're not even dating; we're just friends. But every once in a while, we have to scratch a little itch we both tend to get.

It's not like we're the first set of friends to ever take things a little too far and have a night of passion. Except, that one night of passion turned into a booty call that happened about once a week, sometimes even more often. Nick's my best friend, and I've always been afraid that having sex would ruin that, except it hasn't. When we're at work, or even just hanging out, we're just like we always have been. We talk, we joke around, perhaps we flirt a little, and our friendship is golden and intact, as well as it has ever been. Only our mattresses can vouch for a different story. When our bodies are melted together atop the soft surface, his hips thrusting hard into mine, any premise of just a friendly relationship is zapped. Together, alone, we are lovers. I know his body, and he knows mine like no one else. We get together to feel good; because neither of us have someone to call our own. Sex with no strings attached, no worrying about who needs to call who, how much to give, and how much to take. There are no expectations, only sex.

Nick stands up next to my bed, still shirtless, and gives me a smirk, noticing me all covered up under my sheets, as he fishes his red t-shirt off the floor. He's been called into work again, on a big case he had the luck of getting assigned to. It's been dragging out and really taking a toll on him, so this week he's been over two other times. And each time I accept him with open arms. Some people might think that's sad, but I don't. Usually. This morning, my thoughts about sex with my best friend are jumbled. It's not like he's using me, because I'm using him right back. We both want the sex; we need that release, but there just seems something inherently wrong about making love to someone you're not in a relationship with. I mean, what if one day he decided, or I decided, that this wasn't working any more? We'd still have to see each other at work every day. He will still have seen me naked, with all my imperfections. Every time he looks at me, I know he knows I have a little mole on the back of my thigh, that I like my stomach kissed, and that the nape of my neck is as sensitive as the bottom of my feet. Having to look at him every day, knowing that he knows all this highly private information about me, makes me nervous. It's not like he would go up to Greg and be like, "Hey. Did you know Sara squeals when she orgasms?" but it's just uneasy that someone knows me so intimately. It's not often I let someone this close.

I manage a smile at Nick anyway, despite all my odd feelings this morning. I promised myself I would never think too much into this. It's just a natural, primal urge we both have to feed, and there's nothing wrong with it, as long as both of us are okay with it. Nick pulls his muscle-hugging t-shirt on, and I get a nice look at his washboard abs, his strong pecs, and his amazing arms as he pulls the fabric over his naked skin. I love his body. I need his body. Gosh, I feel like such a schmuck for feeling that, but I do. Being with Nick makes me feel so loved, so cared for, so needed, but when he leaves in the morning like this, I feel so empty. Does Nick ever feel this way about me? Does he reach out and touch the empty mattress after I've left, feeling the warmth that still lingers? I've become more afraid lately that I need him more than he needs me.

Nick sits down on his side of the bed, resting his arms on either side of me. His thumb gently caresses my cheek as I stare up into his eyes, trying to savor this look of pure love and adoration. When we're in public, we can't share these intimate looks. And today that makes me wonder – what's so bad about others knowing we're into each other? Sure, Grissom would be a little perturbed, but who cares what that old man thinks honestly? Gosh, I'm such a teenage girl, having all these thoughts.

His breath is fresh, I notice, as he leans down to press a delicate kiss on my lips. After a few lip locks, he pulls back and studies my face. "Why're you hiding under those covers?" He asks me, smiling knowingly. I don't like to be naked more than I have to be, even around him. Admittedly, he's made me feel more comfortable about my nude body, more than past lovers, but you won't find me walking around the apartment in my birthday suit. Let me make it clear, the sex that Nick and I have isn't always just hard and fast fucking like you might think. We have very tender moments, with slow giving and taking. We can draw it out, taking the time to worship each other's bodies, and at other times we can't tear our clothes off fast enough. It's whatever we're in the mood for, and it always seems to feel right. So right, in fact, that I'm wondering why I'm not with this wonderful, insanely sexy man. His freshly applied aftershave teases my nose as he plants a tender kiss to the tip of my nose, and then another in the middle of my forehead. This loving touch, this human touch I crave so much, is only satisfied by this man, it seems. Damn myself for thinking this about my best friend.

"You're beautiful." He whispers into my left ear as he hovers dangerously around me. We both know that if he doesn't leave fast, that neatly tucked in t-shirt of his will hastily be removed from those denim jeans that are hugging his ass just right. As his warm, moist lips nip the skin just below by earlobe, I know we need to stop, but how can I stop the epitome of sexy from feasting on my neck? You'd have to be a total lesbian to stop him. His talented mouth continues its descent, tracing the well-known trail from by neck to my collarbone, my sternum, until he has to pull the sheet gently down to reach his wanted destination. He pulls back to look at my naked skin, and the look on his face is enough alone to turn me on. I love it when he looks at me like this – like I'm the most beautiful creature he's laid eyes on (though as a former football player, I'm sure he's seen his share of amazing female bodies). It's like everything I need to feel validated, appreciated, and loved, but at the same time it's heart-wrenching. I can't have him. I'm not entitled to have this every morning of my life. As his mouth closes around one of my already pert, pink nipples, I concentrate on the blinding pleasure of the moment, not on the loneliness I know will envelop me as soon as he leaves. His mouth, his hands, his skin is on me now, and at this moment my heart sings.

The alarm clock sounds again, making me want to beat it into the ground for causing Nick's lips to leave my skin. He clicks the button off, knowing he can't delay getting to work any longer, unless he wants to lose the job he loves so much. All the time, I hear how he loves his job. Loves helping people, putting criminals in jail where they belong and using forensics to do so. Always, when he leaves, I stupidly want to hear him say he loves me, but once again, as he rises and straightens his shirt, my heart is left disappointed. Instead, I get his usual words.

"Thanks, babe."

A kiss is pressed to my lips, the last physical contact I'll have with him until we're alone again, maybe later on that day. I turn onto my side and instead of my lover's warm, taut body laying next to me, I'm met again with an empty void. I reach out and touch the sheet, his body heat still lingering, the only proof that he was ever here.


	2. Nick 1

_A/N: Thanks for the great response for chapter one. This chappie is from Nick's pov, and it will alternate from now on. Reviews are my caffeine._

The sounds Sara makes when we're making love never ceases to turn me on even more. And yes, I refer to it as making love, not fucking. It's true that we're not actually in a relationship, but when Sara and I have sex, it feels more meaningful and more right than any other girl I've slept with. When our bodies connect, there's this feeling inside me I can't shake, like she's the other half of me. That sounds cheesy, but that's how I feel.

This is the third time this week that I've come knocking on Sara's door, and the third time she's accepted me without question. With most girls, they want a relationship with sex, but Sara understands somehow. Just like me, she needs to feel good after a long, hard day, and we use each other to remedy the situation. And somehow, it's not weird. We are truly friends with benefits, with none of that confusing, complicated shit so many other people have to deal with.

"God, Nick." Sara gasps from beneath me as I continue my steady, deep thrusting into her. We're in Sara's favorite position – on her back, her legs draped over my shoulders so I can pound into her at an angle that always takes me deep within her warmth. She whimpers when I slam my hips into hers a little harder and gently nip at some of that perfect, milky skin of hers. I know Sara likes to be dominated, especially after the hard day she's apparently had today, which is not what you'd expect from Sara. At work, she's tough as nails, in charge, and sure of herself. But trapped beneath me, she's this beautiful goddess, needing me and wanting me, and God, it feels so good. I'm the only one who gets to see her this way; the only one she'll let in.

I feel Sara's hands go to my ass, pushing me in even deeper as my thrusting becomes more erratic. Her hands never leave me when we make love, always touching, caressing, stroking, as we intimately dance. Our bodies glistening with perspiration, I know Sara is very close to climax because of her sounds. Her moans are growing louder and more throaty, and I'm sure my neighbor isn't happy about the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall. A few deep thrusts later, and I feel my own release, a guttural moan leaving my throat as her walls continue to hug me. I stay inside her a while longer, never eager to leave, as she lets her legs fall back down to the mattress. We share a few sloppy kisses, still panting a bit from our encounter. When I move to lay back down next to her, Sara rolls her body so she can lean against my shoulder, and throws one leg over mine. She's been doing this more and more lately, cuddling after sex, which isn't something she's always done. At times, she seems embarrassed to be naked in front of me and is quick to cover up, and others she's content to just lie in bed with me holding each other. I press a tender kiss to her slightly sweaty forehead, pulling the sheet up over us as the slow ebbing dies out.

Her face troubles me as I look down at her – not a disappointed face, but a confused one. Her eyes stare straight ahead, off at a chair on the other side of the room as her finger draws a random pattern on my chest. "You okay, babe?"

She deeply inhales, as if answering the question will consume energy she doesn't have, and she pats my skin. "Of course."

Her tone isn't very convincing. It's one of those trick answers women tell men when there's something wrong they think is so obvious, and want the men to figure it out for themselves. Sara's not one to play games, though. She's always been direct and forthcoming with her feelings, one quality of hers I appreciate greatly.

"It looked like you were thinkin' about something." I run my fingers up and down her bare arm, hoping to get her to open up and talk. Though the sex is great, our friendship is and always will be more valuable. I worry sometimes that she thinks I just want to screw her and leave. Most of the time, that doesn't happen, but on occasion, like last time, I've had to leave for work. The last thing I think about Sara is that she's a pawn, or an object to use. She's my best friend, and I truly don't know what I'd do if I messed our friendship up.

Sara props her body up on one arm and presses a kiss to my chest and my mouth, then just gazes at me with this poignancy; almost heartbroken. She shakes her head just once, her darkened wavy hair framing her face beautifully. "No. Just a long day. I'm gonna go take a shower real quick."

I don't have time to protest or pull her back sneakily, because with one smooth motion, she turns away from me and stands up from the bed. I can sense that if I did try to catch her arm to kiss and fool around with her a little more, I would likely get a slap or a shove. If Sara's in a mood, it's best to steer clear of her, I've learned. Only this time, I have no idea what I've done as I admire the lines of her back, and the curve of her breast as she moves gracefully towards the bathroom. I mean, I was inside her not two minutes ago. The way she was saying my name then showed no sign of her being angry at me, so I had no idea how I'd apparently fucked things up. Had I hurt her?

The shower turns on in the other room, but after a couple minutes I can tell by the sound of the water hitting only the tub that she's not under the stream. It could be something simple, like she was using the toilet, but by the way she just up and left from the bed I know such a straightforward explanation doesn't fit. A second later, I swear I hear a sob coming from behind the door. Touching my fingers to the bridge of my nose, I ponder what I should do. If she truly is upset with me for some reason, I risk the chance of my ego being bruised, getting shut down. I don't know what she wants me to do. She kissed me before she got up, but it seemed almost cold, like it was a duty she had to perform instead of a joy. I decide I should let her be for now. If I know Sara Sidle, when there's something she truly needs to get off her chest, she will when the time is right for her.

Deciding a nice cup of coffee would be appreciated by Sara after her shower, I slip on my boxer shorts and make my way into her kitchen, which I have gotten to know quite well over the course of our friendship. One sugar, one drop of milk for Sara, I recite in my mind by heart. There's so many little things about Sara I know; so many little things I love. Like the way she hums and sings to herself when she's working; her odd taste in movies; the way she has to bite her lip during cheesy love scenes in movies to keep from giggling. I think of how many times I've watched her sleeping, wondering if there was any way possible she could love me – really love me. What could I ever do to deserve waking up to her every morning; rolling over to drape my arm around her and smell her hair. I don't deserve her, and maybe she is realizing that. Maybe this arrangement isn't working for her anymore, and she isn't interested in a relationship.

But what would I be missing if she suddenly called an end to our sexual encounters? Though it would be weird, I don't think I could ever shut Sara completely out of my life because she is such a dear friend. If we ended our fling, we would go on as coworkers and friends just fine. Everything would be the same, only we wouldn't be sleeping together. But lately, I've been thinking that won't be good enough for me. Nowhere near good enough. I want her and need her by my side. I want to be able to touch her, hold her, kiss her whenever I want to, and not to have to hide it from the world. Why don't I have the guts to tell her this? Well, despite the fact I appear pretty confident and put-together at work, I'm really just a wuss deep down like any other guy. One of the most frightening thoughts in my mind would be to stand in front of Sara and ask her to love me.

Sara's in the shower for a good ten minutes before she wanders out, her hair swooped up on the top of her head with a towel, and her body covered with her blue fuzzy robe. I try not to be so obvious about looking at her face to see if she'd been crying. Indeed, the skin below her eyes appears a bit red, and since she's entered the kitchen she hasn't looked at me once. The silence in the room is uncomfortable, and I have to break it soon or I'm gonna go crazy.

I finish stirring the coffees and carefully slide Sara's mug towards her. "Thanks." Her voice is soft, and not strong as it normally is. She blows lightly over her coffee and then sets it back down, deciding it's too hot to sip right now, and begins sifting through the newspaper on the counter. I've been studying her from where I stand a few feet away, how she's sifting through each page and not actually reading anything. Something's on her mind. She finally looks up at me after a few uncomfortable moments. "What?"

I clear my throat a little and take a step towards her, gently move her coffee mug out of the way, and then take one of her warm hands in mine. "I'm worried about you. You've been kind of distant this morning." She sighs and looks down at our joined hands. To me it's an admission that something's going on with her. "Do you wanna talk?"

Her eyes meet mine and she just gazes at me like she did in bed this morning. Like she knows something about me so amazing, so wonderful, but she won't tell me what it is. It's like she has a secret, and I can't tell if it's good or bad. The look on my face must be one of pure confusion because she gives me a little half-smile, leans forward and gives me a single kiss on the lips, and then walks away.


	3. Sara 2

_A/N: I'm sorry. : ( I haven't updated this for months. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with it, but I just might have it figured out now. This chapter's a bit shorter, but that's where it went. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and kept checking in to see if I was continuing._

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Too much thinking, probably. That's what's always gotten me in trouble with relationships in the past. Men have told me I'm too clingy; I'm too possessive; too needy. Perhaps that's why I haven't pressured Nick into a relationship, because I know that if we do become a couple, I'll screw things up like I always do. I try to learn from my mistakes. I really do. But am I really a bad person just because I need to be with someone? Is it so bad to want companionship, and when I find it, to want to know everything, do everything, experience everything with him?

And then the problem is, as I keep thinking about how I might be screwing up, guys tell me I'm too standoff-ish, too withdrawn. I apparently don't communicate, then the guy usually gets sick of waiting for me, and he breaks up with me. It happens so often that it's like déjà vu. And now with Nick, I don't want to lose him so badly, that I'm probably over-thinking my over-thinking. I love being around him and with him, and I think he feels the same way, but I don't think he wants a relationship. I don't want to pressure him into a relationship and risk losing him, but I don't want to act too disinterested either. When he holds me so close to his body, or kisses me under my ear, or gently runs his fingertips up and down my bare back, I can't help but think this is where I'm supposed to be forever. But how can I tell if he feels the same way without blurting it out, and what if I'm wrong? What if that's how he treats every woman he sleeps with, whether it's a quick shag or a serious prospect?

So, smart idea or not, I decided to go about finding Nick's feelings in a more round-about way. Sure, it's probably stupid, and I should just go to him and tell him how I feel, but I'm just so afraid of being rejected that I'm resorting to stupid ideas. So today, my friends, I put into play the tried and untrue middle school-esque test to see if someone is really into you – I flirted with someone else.

Greg, to be precise. A bunch of us were in the locker room after getting back from a rather sweat-producing crime scene, so showers were taken and clothes were changed. Now, it's not my fault the only locker room at the CSI Headquarters is unisex, and as I've said before, it's my job to be observant. So, after Greg emerged from the showers with only a towel wrapped around his waist, I did it. I whistled at him. I said a few things – compliments, really – that could be interpreted as flirting, all while Nick was in earshot. And the clincher – when Greg told me about how he'd been lifting weights lately, I felt one of his biceps to help him assess his progress (which compared to Nick's, fall WAY short).

Sure, I went to Harvard. But Harvard doesn't offer classes on romance. I know it was low to do something so childish, but I can't help myself. I have to know how Nick really feels, and he has to admit it first because I'm incapable. I can handle him being a little angry with me, but I can't handle going on like we are now. A misunderstanding about flirting with Greg is fixable. What isn't fixable is me blurting that I've fallen in love with Nick, and getting the wrong response.

While all this was going on, I tried to keep an eye on Nick out of the corner of my eye. Honestly, he looked unaffected. He didn't comment or join in busting chops like Warrick and Catherine had, but he didn't look hurt or wronged at all. Nick went with the flow, not letting anyone catch on that he was upset in any way. It's not like I made out with anyone, or slept with someone else, because that's just not how I am. It was just a little flirting, but everyone knows you don't do that if you're with someone else. Even if Nick truly was hurt, he couldn't have really spoken up right then. It would've blown our cover right off. It would've been seriously gratifying if he dramatically declared in front of the entire locker room crowd that he couldn't watch another second of this because he's deeply in love with me. But hey, we're not on a soap opera. Over the eight or so years I've known Nick, I've come to realize he's a sensitive guy, though at work he has to keep a tough exterior. I know seeing me flirt with Greg has to have affected him, if he really does care for me. And unless I'm reading too much into the way he makes loves to me, he does care about me. It can't be possible to connect with someone the way we do, to read each other's minds, for everything to feel so right, and not have real feelings for them, is it? Why again am I trying to hurt the person I care about so much?

So now, a full three hours after shift, his lack of response has me seriously worried. Has he not responded because he's just busy? Is it because he's angry at me? Or worst, is it because he doesn't truly have feelings for me? But why am I expecting him to have any sort of a response anyway? He's not required to talk to me after work every single day, and I'm not his girlfriend, so we don't have to explain all our actions to each other. That was the beauty of our arrangement – sex with no strings attached. All we've been to each other is a booty call. And now, I'm getting angry at myself yet again for seeing something that apparently was never there. I thought we fit each other. I thought we understood each other. Here I am again, over thinking things. Why do these things never work out for me? Why hasn't he called?

I can't call him. What would I say? Would I act like nothing had happened with Greg earlier? And what if Nick said something that would break my heart? I don't think I'd be able to handle that kind of rejection. But as the hours pass by with no contact from Nick, I can't help but feel this is was worse than some harsh words from him. What could he be thinking, after he saw me behave that way? What if I broke his heart? Damn, I hate myself sometimes. It's like I'm incapable of functioning like a normal person when it comes to relationships. This whole plan was such a bad idea.

At noon, I finally go to bed. I leave both my cell phone and house phone on my bedside table, just in case.


	4. Nick 2

_A/N: Thanks to George Eads' arms for inspiration._

I've had a lot of girls break my heart, and I've shattered plenty of girls' hearts myself. But never have I felt so…confused and frankly, hurt by a woman's actions than I do now. But this time, I don't know if I'm even allowed to feel betrayed. After all, Sara and I were never officially an item. We just fucked (pardon my French), plain and simple. Only, the past couple weeks have made me suspicious that Sara is having more than just fuck-buddy feelings for me and has been afraid to admit it. Kind of like me. The feeling I get when I'm with her – and not just during sex, but just hanging out with friends – is incomparable to anything I've experienced in the past. I've wondered if, when she got all freaked out the other day at her place after sex, she was thinking about the same things I have lately – that we're a perfect fit, the perfect balance, and it's a crime that we're not officially together.

But now, as I secretly watch her across the hall in the evidence room once again being a little too friendly with Greg, I wonder if it was all in my head. Yesterday, she was feeling up his damn bicep. I didn't say anything because, as her non-boyfriend, it's probably not my business. Except it feels like my business. You might think perhaps I'm all about casual sex – about sleeping with the hottest women just because I can, and not having a second thought about it – but that's not me at all. Every woman I've slept with has meant something to me, maybe some not as much as others, but I'm not about sleeping with random people. So, as I see Sara, someone I deeply care about, flirting like crazy and apparently forgetting all about me, it's devastating.

Sara laughs out loud at something Greg tells her, like it's the funniest thing she's heard in her life, and casually squeezes his shoulder in apparent approval. I can see the way Greg's looking at her – like he wants her, and suspects she wants him back. I'm jealous. You heard me, jealous. But I'm not allowed to be.

The gentle hum of my cell phone vibrating on my hip startles me from my thoughts. I wonder how long I've been just standing here staring at Sara. I really don't think she noticed me, but anyone who knows Sara well like me knows she can be crafty. As I look at the caller ID, it's hard to say whether I'm pleasantly surprised or slightly annoyed that Lisa, a girl I met in a bar a couple months back has dialed me up. She was a nice girl – a friend of a friend, and I did feel a bit of a connection with her. That's right around when Sara and I started hooking up, so nothing ever became of it. I decide to throw my thoughts and worries to the wind and answer it.

"Hey." I say simply in a low voice as I steal another glance at Sara. Greg is getting a great view of that gap-toothed smile I love so much, and surely enjoying her quirky laugh, her scent. Is it wrong for me to think Greg doesn't deserve her? That he doesn't deserve the sheer privilege of being in her company, burying his nose in her hair, kissing her eyelids? Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself – I get that way when I'm jealous, which isn't often. I don't want to sound high and mighty, but I usually get what I want when it comes to women.

"Nick!" She answers a little over-enthusiastically. "What are you up to?"

I have to admit that I've ignored several of her calls because I just wasn't that interested due to my infatuation with Sara. But watching her flirt with Stanford boy is making me question if being with Sara is even possible. It was so stupid to think we could just sleep together without someone getting their feelings hurt. I love her. I do. But I must have waited too long to let her know that. Sara's a highly independent person, and I just didn't think she wanted to be tied down in a relationship. I'd love a relationship with Sara, to be able to hold her when I want, kiss her, hold her hand. All that I thought she didn't want right now. Is she distancing herself from me because she's sick of waiting around for me? And how am I supposed to know if she wants a relationship if she doesn't tell me? I guess the same way she's supposed to read my mind.

"Not much. Just working and keeping busy. How about you?" I busy myself messing around on the computer right next to me, in case anyone important were to walk by and just see me staring at Sara looking pitiful.

"Same old, same old." She says as a little giggle escapes her throat. It's nothing compared to Sara's, but a much younger Nick Stokes would likely be chasing after her like a kid running after an ice cream truck. "I was actually thinking of hitting the Strip tonight with the group and wondered if you'd like to come along. Um…like as a date."

I run my free hand through my hair in thought. On one hand, I'd like to wallow in self-pity and throw a few beers back in the comfort and solidarity of home, but the old frat boy in me is like the devil sitting on my shoulder, telling me to go along. It's not like I'm gonna go sleep with her. And as I once again see how Greg is looking at Sara, I know I need a release. I need to get out and get Sara out of my mind, because obviously she isn't that interested. Sara doesn't just flirt with guys. I think she's trying to send me a message, and it's coming through loud and clear. She's moving on. I blew it, and she's moving on.

So, with a heavy heart, I clear my throat and speak to this other woman – a woman I don't love, who's a nice girl but doesn't measure up at all to the person I stack everyone up against.

"Uhh…yeah, Lisa. That sounds good. What time?"


	5. Sara 3

_:D So…I suck. But I'm trying not to so much! Lostladyknight linked me to this awesome video of a press conference George Eads did in France, and it inspired me to write (plus, I got a little nudge from LLK!). If you haven't seen it, I linked it on the George Eads Texan Charm website. It's on googlevideo. He's totally adorable. So a thousand thousand thanks to LLK for showing me!!_

What the hell is wrong with me? Seriously. I wonder if somehow I suffered a major brain injury without knowing it, as I think about my behavior the last few days. What kind of fool publicly flirts with another man when she's been having hot, fulfilling, mind-blowing sex with a gorgeous man? And who would do it in front of said hot man? Sara Sidle, holder of a baccalaureate degree from Harvard University.

I've heard of playing hard to get, and for some women that seems to actually work. Only, I apparently don't have the right stuff. How does this game work? A girl is attracted to a guy, but instead of flirting with him, she flirts with someone else, hoping for what? The guy she actually likes to be impressed or turned on by her ability to flirt with another man? It doesn't even make sense. What kind of tweenage mentality has overtaken my usually brilliant mind?

Okay, so I've realized this was a bad idea. I know that because it's over twenty-four hours since I flirted with Greg, and there's still no word from Nick. So, I'm deducting that one of several things has happened –

One – Nick noticed my sluttish behavior and has concluded I'm a slut.

Two – Nick saw me flirting with Greg, and he's hurt, mad, and doesn't want to talk to me.

Three – Nick saw me flirting with Greg, but didn't care.

Any one of these three options is not positive. I'm not a slut. I've only slept with four men my entire adult life, and at the time, I had meaningful relationships with them. I most certainly do not sleep around or take sex lightly. Nick is the only person I've ever slept with that I haven't officially been "going out" with. Wow, I wonder what Nick thinks about that. With guys, the standards of casual sex are different. If a guy has a one night stand, he got lucky. He scored. It gets him points with his buddies. If a girl sleeps with a random guy, she's a whore. Nick isn't exactly a random guy, but I wonder if he thinks less of me for giving in. For him, it's okay, but maybe in the back of his mind he thinks I'm slutty for sleeping with him.

But Nick doesn't treat me like I'm a slut. Not at all. When we're together, it's not boom, bang, we're done, get out. We make love; we touch each other, caress each other; he kisses me tenderly; he treats me like I'm the only person that exists in the world. God, he's amazing. I had all that, and I flirted with Greg to see if Nick really likes me? I follow the evidence for a living, and the evidence was right in front of me. And I blew it.

I wouldn't blame Nick for thinking I'm a slut after the way I acted. I blatantly flirted with one of our mutual friends right in front of him. That's just shitty. I wouldn't blame him for being mad at me and not wanting to talk to me, either. I've been a real ass. I've fallen for him, and this is what he does to me. I'm so into him, it drives me to act like a fool. Is that a good sign or a bad sign?

But the worst thing, the absolute worth possibility out of those three options is that he doesn't care. Over the years, I think I've gotten pretty good at reading people. It comes with the job, I think. When Nick and I together, I read that he's fond of me. Maybe he even loves me. Did I read him so wrong amidst all the perfect, passionate kisses, the gentle caress of his hand, his intense gaze I thought was only meant for me? Could I have just been a meaningless fling to him? Is he still that much of a frat boy? And what does that say about me? Am I really that naïve that I think a guy really cares about me, and all he wants is sex? If that's the case, maybe Nick's the slut.

But, no. I know Nick. He's not like that at all. Hell, he hasn't had a steady girlfriend the entire eight years I've known him. And why? Well, as I said, he's a highly attractive man, and with that comes lots of beautiful but shallow women chasing after him. He's probably better at reading people than I am, so he can tell what a girl's after. Nick won't date women who are just after his tail. He has integrity and class. So, the fact that he let me in as much as he has shows that he does indeed care about me. And the fact that I shamelessly flirted with Greg Sanders in front of him makes ME the prick. God, he must be devastated.

I don't wait another second before flipping my phone open and hitting the speed dial for Nick's number. An apology on my part is definitely in order, and I can't hesitate another second. I expect that he's probably at home, perhaps sitting in front of the TV watching college football sipping a beer, but when he picks up, I hear lots of noise in the background.

"Stokes," he answers. I can just picture him, surrounded by people at a club, his fingers clasped over his other ear, straining to listen into the phone. I wonder if he even checked the caller ID. And if he hadn't, I wonder if he's pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised that it's me.

"Uh, hey Nick. It's me," I rub my forearms uncomfortably, wondering now what exactly I'm going to say. I should've thought it through before I dialed, but I was just so anxious to, I didn't give it a second thought. I needed the perfect apology, and now I was just going to have to pull one out my ass.

"Oh, hey Sar," his voice doesn't sound disappointed or especially excited to hear from me. This is on me, so I need to get on with it, because obviously he's busy. Is he so crushed after all, then? Is he so unaffected that he can just hit the bars and have a grand old time without me? Or is he so down, that he's having to blow off some steam? Before I can continue, I hear the absolute worst sound in the world. It's another woman, and she's giggling, probably right into Nick's ear. She's probably hanging all over him, smelling his enticing aftershave, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath his shirt, enjoying that magical thousand-watt smile of his. And suddenly I get it – he's already moved on.

I don't have a right to be hurt and angry, but I am, and I get right to it. "Are you with someone, Nick?"

I hear him shush whoever's with him. I wonder if she knows she's a rebound. "I'm out at the bars, Sara. Can this wait?" There's a sense of annoyance in his voice. Yesterday, he practically worshipped me, and suddenly I'm getting the brush off? I guess this is what I deserve, but I thought Nick was way above this.

"I asked if you were out with someone. I hear a girl with you," I call him out on it.

"I am, Sara," he admits, and possibly detecting the jealousy in my voice, he continues, "I didn't know you'd care."

Pacing around my living room, I scrub a hand over my face. I deserve this. He doesn't know I have real feelings for him, because I've never come out and said it. Instead, I passive aggressively try to let him know via flirting with other males. So what do I say? I can't exactly get all possessive girlfriend on him, because we've never been official. But I can't let him think this doesn't hurt me, because it does.

"Nick," I begin, trying to find my words. I stare up at the ceiling looking for answers, but don't find any. "I know…I know I acted like an ass yesterday at work. I was flirting with Greg, and I know this sounds stupid, but it was because…"

"Because what, Sara?" He cuts me off, "You've been lookin' for a way to tell me you don't want me around any more? The last couple times we've been together, you've been actin' weird." He's practically having to yell into the phone because of all the noise, but I wonder even if he were outside, alone, he'd still be raising his voice. "I get it. You wanna move on."

I can't believe that's the kind of vibe I've been sending out. I feel totally horrible, but it's all my fault. Screwing up relationships, or almost-relationships, is my specialty. I can't believe I've done it with quite possibly the only man I've ever loved.

"No, Nick!" I practically yell. "That's not what I was trying to do at all! It's because I have feelings for you!"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. In the movies, this is the part where the two lead actors realize they're meant for each other, and all this has been a misunderstanding. They laugh into the phone, and whisper sweet apologies and terms of endearment. Then, they rush to a residence of choice and share a dramatic kiss, followed by lots of passionate sex. Well, this isn't the movies.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it. I've gotta go."

The line suddenly goes silent. The sudden lack of loud background noise is like a slap in the face. He hung up on me. I told him I had feelings for him, and he hung up on me. After a few moments of silence, I shut my phone and just stare at nothing. There's only one thought in my mind, and I can't help but play it over and over.

_I've screwed things up for good, and I don't think I can fix it._


	6. Nick 3

_A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! You rocketh! This chapter's a little shorter, but yay for updating sooner than two months apart! Yippee! Please let me know what you think._

The music is blaring, the lights are flashing, alcohol runs through my veins, and Lisa is nibbling on my ear…but somehow all I can think about is that phone call.

Sara has feelings for me. First of all, why do women have to say such vague things? I really doubt she means she feels like upchucking when she sees me, or pure malice and hate. But why can't she just come out and say it if she feels it? Women have such puzzling ways of showing their feelings. She feels up Greg right in front of me, and that's somehow supposed to clue me in that she likes me? What the hell do women think? I guess in female language, that's a good signal. After more than thirty years on this planet, I still don't have the female species figured out, and I don't think I ever will.

Sara likes me. I like Sara. It's as simple as that, apparently, but it's not so easy when you get down to it. We're coworkers. We're friends with some killer benefits. How can we have done things so backwards, that we have sex first, and confess our fondness for one another afterwards? The sex was great, but it sure made our relationship awkward. Ass-backwards, to tell the truth.

So now, here I am in the middle of a nightclub, with a beautiful, sweet-smelling woman grinding her ass against my groin. Almost any guy would wanna take her home, but she's not the woman I want. She's not Sara. And now that I know that Sara actually wants me too, I feel disgusting letting this hot, but shallow woman flirt with me and seduce me. Maybe in my college days I'd go for this, but not now. Not when I have an amazing woman like Sara who just confessed she "has feelings for me".

I try to let Lisa down gently, because she seems to be pretty into me. I softly put my hands on her almost bare shoulders, besides some hardly-there tank top straps, and move her away from my body. She turns to face me, giving me a quizzical look. Obviously, she's not used to being turned down, and I can see why. The music is booming, so I lean in close to her ear. God, she smells good.

"I'm sorry, I've gotta go," I tell her as gently as I can, while still having to almost yell. Her quizzical look seems to turn into pissed-off. She raises her eyebrows, demanding an explanation. "I've got someone I need to talk to. I'm sorry. Have a good night."

She just shakes her head and gives me an evil look, then turns in her heels to find some of her friends. I feel kinda bad about it, honestly, but I've got bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that I hung up on Sara when she confessed her feelings for me. How many times have I wondered, and hoped, while on the brink of ecstasy in bed with her, or working a crime scene with her, or hanging out watching a movie, that she liked me more than as just a friend? All those countless times, and we she finally tells me, I have the audacity to hang up the phone on her.

Well, she didn't exactly make it clear as day before. Sara's still partially to blame for this, but I've never confessed my true feelings for her either. How long have we both felt this way and not acted on it? How many experiences have we missed because of our fear of being rejected, or labeled too clingy? I don't know, but I'm determined not to let another one of those moments slip away.

I've had only two beers to drink in the last couple hours, so I'm pretty sure I'm good to drive. God knows I've been drunk enough times to know my body. I hop into my truck, buckle up, and tear out of that parking lot as fast as I can.

When I reach a stoplight, I pull my cell phone out my back pocket and hit Sara's number on speed dial. It rings three times before it goes to voicemail. I snap the phone shut and toss it on the empty seat next to me. I guess I deserve that.

Part of me's afraid of what she's thinking and doing right now. Though she has a tough exterior, Sara can be pretty fragile if you hit the wrong buttons with her. She doesn't handle rejection well – she's called me enough times on the phone many times after failed attempts to get Grissom to notice her. I'm not afraid that she's gonna do something drastic, but I hate to think about Sara upset, and especially when I'm the cause of it. We've both screwed up in the communication department, and we need to talk.

Usually, it would take me about fifteen minutes to get to Sara's apartment from here, but this time it takes only about half that time. I find an empty parking space in her lot and spot her car. Typical of Sara Sidle, to be home on a Friday night. I race up to the second floor of the complex and started knocking loudly on her door.

"Sara!" I pound on her door a couple more times when she doesn't answer. Her next door neighbor angrily pokes her head out the door and gives me a scowl, but for once I don't care who I'm bothering. I give the woman a wave and she shoots me one last evil glare before slamming her door. Again, I knock on Sara's door, getting no reply. Who knows – maybe she looked through the peep hole, saw me, and chose to ignore me. Or maybe some other guy came by and picked her up for a night on the town, after I rejected her. Either way, she's not answering, and I realize I won't be speaking to her tonight. Defeated, I turn and walk slowly down the hallway, hoping that at any moment, I'll hear her door open and she'll call me back. But she doesn't.

I make it out to the parking lot, and run my hand through my hair in frustration. In just a few days, my life has gone through so many ups and downs. And just when I thought I had it figured out, it's too late. No wonder I'm in my late thirties and still single. I'm a total schmuck when it comes to love.

Making my way through the parking lot, I click the unlock button on my truck, but then something stops me.

"Nick!" I hear Sara's familiar voice call to me from somewhere high up. Immediately, I turn my head and look up to her apartment window. Nothing.

"Nick!" I hear again, and switch my gaze higher up, where I spy Sara up on the roof of her apartment complex.


	7. Sara 4

_A/N: Muchos gracias again for reviews. I'm in a horrible cataloging class right now, so positive feedback brings happiness into my life!! Also, please go to my profile page and vote on what you think should happen next in this fic. Enjoy!_

My heart is threatening to pound right out of my chest as Nick yells, asking if he can come up. He came back. He came back! I thought there was no possible way he would be talking to me for weeks, and he shows up at my apartment complex. I call down to him to come up to the roof and he nods and heads up.

As I wait for him, I can feel the blood pounding in my ears. Yet again, I feel unprepared. I've been thinking about what I'd say if he actually graced me with his presence again, but at the same time it all sounds wrong. How does someone apologize for flirting with a mutual friend? Now that Nick knows I have feelings for him, are we supposed to talk about it? What if he doesn't want to talk about it, and thinks it's a bad idea to get together?

I hear footsteps on the stairs to the roof, so I grab the wine glass I'd been sipping, tilt my head back and chug the rest of it down. Probably not the smartest idea, but somehow I know that if I'm totally sober, I won't say what I need to say. If there's a little alcohol in my veins, it helps me loosen up. How fucked up is that? I can't speak honestly unless I'm tipsy? That just sounds like a bad combination. Hopefully I can conjure up enough guts to vocalize my true feelings for Nick when he arrives.

A moment later the door to the roof opens, and Nick's figure steps out, letting the door shut behind him.

Oh. My. Lord.

Have I ever told you how heart-stoppingly beautiful this man looks when he's concerned? It makes my heart flutter every time. I had been worried Nick was still mad at me, and that we'd have an argument (which, by the way, also rates a ten on the sexiness scale), but the way he's looking at me from the door makes me want to look away because my complete enchantment must be written all over my face. The way his eyebrows furrow in distress, and his forehead creases in concern, and his mouth forms a small, straight line of worry, makes me wonder how I could ever think this man didn't care about me. The way he looks at me makes me feel like the most cared-for person on the planet.

A lot of things have been said by both of us that just aren't true. And a lot of things haven't been said that need to be. Where do we even start? Nick shoves his hands in his pockets and glances down for a moment before he meets my gaze again. He takes a few steps forward so he's standing next to me near the edge of the roof, overlooking the whole city, and lets out a long breath.

Though I know this whole thing is probably mostly my fault, I have to ask the question. "So, how was your date?"

Nick turns his head to look at me, and I can tell that was a bit of a low blow. Even so, he hurt me. But I hurt him first. He blew me off, but he never would have if I'd just been forward with my feelings like a normal person.

We're both silent for several prolonged moments, when Nick finally begins. His voice is calm, but I can tell he's still hurt and confused. "If you care about me, then why can't you just come out and say it, Sar? Flirting with Greg is supposed to clue me in?"

"I'm sorry," I immediately apologize, and we both direct our eyes out at the city, not at each other. Not just yet. I know I need to start with the apologizing, so I begin before I can talk myself out of it. It was time to be normal. "Nick, my family was never good at expressing their feelings. Not in a healthy way, anyway. I…I suck at telling people how I feel."

Nick turns to face me but I stay looking forward. I wish I could be more normal. I wish I'd had a conventional family growing up, more like Nick's. But I didn't, and this is the way I am. I'm incapable of normal communication, and because of it, Nick may not want anything to do with me. Nick's hand grasping my shoulder and turning me towards him makes me think twice about that. I try not to look at his eyes, but I can't stop myself. His eyes are dark, his pupils dilated because of the night sky, but more noticeably, intense and serious.

"Maybe, Sar, but I never told you how I felt either," he pointed out, letting the hand resting on my shoulder drop down and grasp my hand lightly. A flutter of hope makes itself known in my stomach, and I wait for him to continue. "I, uh. I guess I just assumed you weren't interested in a relationship. We just kinda had our way of doing things, and I thought you'd want your independence."

I nodded, knowing that I usually came off as highly independent, not in need of a man or any kind of romantic relationship. It's an exterior I've hidden behind for some time, but it's only because I assume I'll be rejected. Every guy I've been with has eventually gotten sick of me and my baggage, and I don't need to be rejected any more. It hurts way too much. I care about Nick so much that I never wanted him to get too close. If he did, he'd probably want to run away, and I don't think I could bear that. His thumb strokes the back of my hand, and I wonder if all along, I've had it wrong.

"I thought I was stupid to hope you'd ever want to be with me," the words roll off my tongue before I can give it another thought. "All my life, it seems the only men interested in me were egotistical jerks, creeps, assholes…so when you came into my life, I knew all you'd ever be was a friend. And we've had a great friendship over the years, Nick. When it turned physical, I thought it was too good to be true. I didn't think it would last, and when we made love, I realized that I really cared about you. Suddenly, I got so afraid that I would lose you if you found out I wanted to be more than friends, so I retracted. And the Greg thing happened, and I totally screwed things up." I look down and then back out at the city, uncomfortable, but at the same time, relieved I was finally getting all these feelings out. "I'm sorry, Nick. I understand if you're not interested any more."

Nick tugs me towards him, taking hold of my other arm so I have to look directly at him. Still, I avoid his eyes until he places a finger under my chin and tilts it up so I have to gaze into his eyes. Dark, intense, and full of love.

"Sara," he whispers, "You're the only one that I want." I hold his gaze until he closes his eyes and leans in to capture my lips with his.

_A/N 2: Don't forget to vote on what should follow!_


	8. SaraNick

Nick

_A/N: So, I suck. I admit it. Finally…here's the final chapter! The overwhelming response to the forum question was for Nick and Sara to do it somewhere…so here you are. This chapter isn't for the little kiddies, so don't read if you don't like that sort of thing. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and please let me know what you think about this final chapter. It switches back and forth from Nick to Sara's pov. Hopefully you like. : )_

**Nick**

It feels like I haven't kissed Sara in months, though it's only been about a week. Still, going that long without kissing Sara should be a felony. Her lips feel so good moving gently with mine. I rest my hands on her hips as I duck my head in more, making it more passionate and deep. A moment later, I feel her tongue caressing mine, and the sexiest little whimper escapes from her throat. Funny how when I used to think about kissing Sara, before we'd done anything together, I had a hard time imagining her giving into the moment; making herself vulnerable as we both gave ourselves completely to each other. Surprisingly, she's a pro. It's like we're perfect together. It's just too bad we've wasted too much time tiptoeing around our feelings when we could've really been something. Now that our feelings are out in the open, I'm pretty sure we'll be together always.

I tear my lips away from her to whisper in her ear, "I missed you so much." I kiss her skin just below her ear tenderly, knowing it drives her crazy. She squirms a little bit, halfheartedly, and chuckles before our lips meet fervently again. We're away from each other so much, that when we reconnect, there's an unbelievable amount of electricity between us. Somehow I know that being together more often, like I hope we will be, won't diminish that amazing energy we have with each other. I snake my hands up underneath the hemline of her top, anxious to touch her perfect skin again.

**Sara**

No matter how many times his fingertips have brushed my skin, I'll probably always shiver when he touches me. I'd forgotten how good it feels to have his hands on me, to be the solitary object of his attention. It's definitely something I could get used to. Forgive me, but when he touches me, I feel like singing that Madonna song, _Like a Virgin_, because it seriously feels that way. Nick has an amazing way of touching me that makes it feel like I've never been touched before. Up until now, being with Nick was like getting treated to a really fancy restaurant; one that I could never afford on my own. I enjoyed every minute of it, because I never knew when I'd get the chance again. I didn't feel worthy of his attention, like I wouldn't feel worthy of a fancy restaurant. But now it's readily apparent that Nick wants me. Which is great, because I want him too.

As his fingers caress my skin and work their way to the front I start a little teasing of my own, reaching out to squeeze the slight bulge in his jeans. He breathes in air fast through his teeth and starts kissing the side of my neck in appreciation as I continue to caress him. Nick pushes my bra up so he can knead the soft flesh he finds.

"God Nick," I moan as he pushes me up against the brick wall that houses the staircase.

**Nick**

The way she says my name always makes me want to please her even more. We can both see where this is heading. It's been a week since we've had sex, but it sure feels like longer. Only this time, it doesn't feel like it's just an itch we need to scratch. It feels special; like we really love each other. We're taking our time, appreciating every touch, every kiss. It's not long before both our shirts are shed, forgotten in a pile on the rooftop, and my pants are unbuttoned. The sight of her bare-chested, like the case for most men, excites me, and I don't miss the opportunity to close my mouth over her already pert nipple as my hand teases the other. Sara whimpers again, and the sound has an immediate effect on my crotch. Does she know what that does to me? Do all women have a secret arsenal of little whimpers they're born with so they have power over men? I get the feeling she does, when she reaches down to stroke me, making it harder and harder for me not to tear the rest of her clothes off and have my way with her.

**Sara**

I'm no expert, but Nick is…well let's just say impressive. I can't help but smile to myself when I feel him reacting to the touch of my fingers, remembering just how he feels inside me. Though it's nice to take our time and take it slow, I also really want to get on with it. It's been too long, and I've missed him. I've missed this. After all the bullshit we put each other through, I'm so glad we can put it behind us and get on with our relationship.

He lets out a guttural groan as I stroke him some more. As somewhat of a control freak, I love how I have this power over him. It excites the shit out of him, and I've been told I'm pretty good at it. I push his jeans down his narrow hips until they pool on the floor. Quickly, he moves to kick off his shoes and jeans and immediately he starts complaining like a little girl about the tiny pebbles digging into the flesh on his feet. I laugh at him and lead him over to a reclining lawn chair a few feet away to save his precious feet. In the process, he peels off the last of his clothing – a pair of dark gray boxer briefs – and all his glory is on display for me (and at full attention, may I add) as he settles back on the chair.

Once he's comfy, he looks up at me and flashes his favorite thousand-watt grin, showing off his pearly whites. I always just want to kiss the creases of skin around his eyes, around his mouth. We're both aging, but his laugh lines show a certain maturity I find sexy. He's laughed a lot in his life. Nick's a fun-loving guy, and I'm reminded of that every time he grins at me. Nick motions with a single finger to join him on the chair, so I slowly unbutton my jeans and push them down along with underwear. I was prepared, just in case he showed up, and put on a hot pair of black panties, which he seems to approve of. Without another word, I climb onto the chair with him and straddle his hips.

**Nick**

I let out another guttural groan (hey, I can't really control that), as Sara grinds herself down on me. It's easy to feel how excited she is also, and that turns me on even more. Sara leans down and captures my lips in a passionate kiss. I admit, I've been with my fair share of women, but no one's ever turned me on the way Sara does. I think it's because there's more to it than just sex – even when we were just friends with benefits. She's one of my best friends, and I know for certain now that I love her and she loves me. Sara's everything I've been looking for, and I can't believe I didn't realize it before.

We lock lips for a while longer as our hands continue to roam over each other's bodies until both of us are on the brink. Our eyes lock, and we both communicate wordlessly what we want to happen. Reaching down to position myself, I soon feel her begin to sink her body down onto mine. Another groan from both of us this time, as I feel myself being surrounded by her warmth. God, I missed this. It's more perfect than I can remember. Our eyes never leave each other as she begins to move ever so slowly, rocking her body back and forth, poised beautifully over mine. I let my hands rest on her hips, gently guiding her movements, and we're both content for now to take things slowly.

**Sara**

The feeling of Nick filling me up, his hands on his hips, and his eyes on me is almost too much for my senses. No one has ever encompassed me completely like Nick does. His gaze is intense, his eyes full of love and pure lust. It makes me want to please him even more. And while it's nice to take things slowly, I don't think I can stand it much longer. The way his thick fingers are pressing into my skin tells me he's having trouble controlling himself also. My theory is affirmed when I feel his arms encircle my torso and pull me down so he can take over. His hips begin to thrust up into mine harder, and all I can do is hold on and moan in approval.

**Nick**

Being with Sara again now is better than I ever remember it. Maybe because I thought I'd lost her; because I screwed up. I guess part of loving someone is loving all of them – flaws and all. I'm glad Sara can see past the little bump in our relationship and accept me back with open arms, like I did with her. Sara's flirting with Greg was a mistake; me going out with that girl was a mistake, but none of it matters because now we're back in each other's arms where we belong. And she's doing that whimper thing again that drives me crazy, and I think she knows it. It's like I can't control myself – I start thrusting into her harder and faster and deeper, my ears loving her response. Both of us reach our climax almost at the same time, and she collapses on top of me. We try to catch our breath, panting, as my arms embrace her yet again. I press a couple kisses to her forehead and temple and let my fingers rub over her back, which is slightly moist from our workout. As our breathing returns to normal, she picks her head up and gives me a slow, thorough, passionate kiss.

"I love you," she whispers as I bury my fingers in her hair, taking the sight of her in.

"And I love you," I whisper back before we kiss again.

**Sara**

After we make love on the roof, which was a first for me, we throw on a minimal amount of clothes and head down the staircase to my apartment. I love how he puts his hand on the small of my back, gently ushering me along when we turn the corner to my hallway. It's something a boyfriend does for a girlfriend, and it makes me smile, almost as a reflex, that Nick and I are officially an item now. Well, we might not want to let the cat out of the bag at work just yet, but we're together in our own minds, and that's all that matters to me. We don't need Ecklie breathing down our necks just yet. I want to have the time to enjoy our newfound relationship, to make love five times a day just because we can, and wake up to see him laying next to me.

We decide to lounge around on the couch for a while and watch a movie, half-dressed and covered in a blanket. Another boyfriend/girlfriend activity. Being curled up with him under the covers, spooning, feeling his breath on my cheek, and his hand resting on my hip is what I've wished for for a long time.

About halfway through the movie, the hand resting on my hip begins to roam, and his lips begin to kiss my cheek, my neck, behind my ear. It's not long before we're making love again on the couch, his perfect, muscular arms propping himself up over me. I don't think I'll ever get used to it; ever get tired of it. As we finish, panting, a little while later, and he presses a loving kiss to my forehead, I know I'll never have to worry about settling for being just friends with benefits ever again. We're lovers; we're best friends; we're partners for life.


End file.
